


Week 1 - You're my weakspot.

by DidjaMissMe



Series: SPN Hiatus Creations [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 3.16, Hospitals, Love Confessions, M/M, More tags to be added, No Rest For The Wicked - Freeform, Tumblr, spnhiatuscreations, whump!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4070131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DidjaMissMe/pseuds/DidjaMissMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're my weak spot. You are. And I'm yours. It’s a divine balance, and that means - As you grow in strength, well, I suppose so does my weakness. But I'm okay with that, If it means you get to rise, I'd fall from the heavens, any day. I gripped you tight, and now I'm never letting go."</p><p>-----<br/>For Spn Hiatus Creations: Week 1<br/>You're my weakspot. You are. And I'm yours,</p>
            </blockquote>





	Week 1 - You're my weakspot.

**Author's Note:**

> SPN Hiatus Creations: Week 1  
> You're my weakspot. You are. And I'm yours.
> 
> Instead of focusing on the brotherly love (although it is still present), I took the theme, and creating a parallel to 3.16 "No Rest for the Wicked". (Set sometime before the apocalypse)  
> And I have to say, this isn't too bad for writing in one day...

_Irony (n.)_  

 _The opposition of a literal meaning_  

 

The apocalypse was a looming darkness, an inevitability the Winchesters worked to prolong.  This salt-and-burn was a quick detour, to blow some steam and get a feel for what life /was/ like - When demons were demons, and angels were lore. 

 

So when Dean distractedly got thrown about by an angered apparition, Castiel could only watch as his head struck the tomb with a sickening crack, and Sam complete the banishment of the spirit. One word came to mind - ironic. 

 

He watched Sam drop the fuel container and rush over to Dean, and tug at his multiple layers, and call for him to wake. He watched as Sam threatened and spat at his brother, then beg him to wake up, only to fall silent and burry his head on Dean's chest. 

 

 _How ironic, that in the midst of immortal turmoil, the human to stop it all falls to a mortal wound._   It made Castiel question motives and reason, something he never did in history past. Something he never did before he saved Dean Winchester. Something he never did before he met humanity.  

 

He learned new things - and for one with an impeccable knowledge and eternal perspective, that was a great deal. He learned the mannerism and ticks of people, the slang and awkward talk of humans, the emotions and empathy of one person to another, the protective bond of family, the jokes and laughter of friends, the hidden meanings and lies of oneself. 

 

He observed, he watched, and he grew. And Castiel found himself growing to love humanity. 

 

Castiel loved the way humanity was self-sufficient and found solutions to their problems. Castiel loved the quirks of humanity's reasoning. He loved the science of humanity's sleeping, eating, and relieving patterns. He loved the way humanity worked to protect one another. He loved the way humanity worked through it's weakness. He loved the way humanity cried for each other. He loved the way humanity smiled, and the way emotions would show itself in unreal green eyes. He was in love with humanity. 

 

And as he watched humanity get snuffed out by an old rock on a wet night, Castiel felt for humanity. 

 

"He- he- he's breathing. Oh god, he's breathing. Unresponsive, but alive. Shit. Oh shit." Sam looked up, eyes wet and fixed on Castiel. "Cas, shit." 

 

But humanity had a chance. "Hospital," was all he said as he touched Sam's shoulders, and flew them to one in a nearby town. 

 

* * *

The hospital was warm and dry compared to the rainy night.

Irony.

The hospital was warm and dry, compared to the feeling in Castiel's chest and the tears on Sam's face as he explained to the ER nurse how " My brother - He - He slipped getting out of the car, hit the driveway, and and- he's not waking up."

Was lying irony?

Castiel, lost in thoughts of nothing, his mind matching the empty ache of his heart, came to as Sam sat down in a chair next to him.

"They say they'll run a few tests." Sam said quietly. Castiel looked up at him, surprised to find Sam's face dry and composed. Humanity had a certain strength no grace could compare. "Are you okay?" He asked.

Castiel furrowed his brow. "Are you?" He replied.

Sam laughed. Castiel supposed that was ironic, too. "I'm supposed to be stopping the devil, and all I can do is pray there's someone to pray to."  Humanity had emotions, and a strange dependency on each other for comfort. Castiel placed a hand on Sam's knee, and kept that connection for an unresolved amount of time.

It was broken when a nurse called for a " Jared Smith? I have news on your brother"  And Sam standing to talk to the nurse in a corner. Castiel watched. Humanity always showed emotion. Even if it wasn't through tears and screams and smiles, you could find it in the way Sam's fist clenched, his face calmed, and his slow measured pace back to the angel.

Sam didn't sit down, and he didn't meet Castiel's eyes.

"It's definitely head trauma. He's in a coma right now, and that's all they know." His voice was strained. "They're unsure of the damage done, or if he'll wake up."

If.

Despite humanity's complexity, it surely did lack details.

Time passed, and when Castiel looked up, Sam was gone. He stood up, and regretted it. His stomach clenched, but at least that meant he could feel  something  after hours of just  nothing.  Regret, feelings - He was feeling closer to humanity by being so far away. He walked over to the nurse's desk, recognized the man there as the one that called Sam "Jared", and was at a loss of what to say.

The nurse seemed to have sensed this, and recognized Castiel as being with Sam. "Are you a significant other, or a family member? Not many visitors are allowed in his room right now, and his brother is already with him."   


"Dean and I do share a profound bond. Yes." It wasn't a lie, but the meaning was most likely not what the nurse meant.  Irony .

"Hall to your left. Third door," the nurse directed him. "I'm sorry." He called, as Castiel numbly walked that way.

The room was small, cramped, claustrophobic even - or maybe that was just how Castiel felt, seeing Dean in a soft slumber, and Sam at a chair at his feet. Except, Castiel has watched him sleep before - Humanity is never  that  at peace.

"I don't know what to do," a quiet confession from Sam. Neither did Castiel. He followed Sam, and pulled up a chair to Dean's left, across from the brother. Castiel could commiserate.

Or, he could get something done. Solve the problem, like the humans.

But how? He was only an angel.

Only? When did that come in?  He questioned his thoughts.  Only? He was an Angel of the Lord. A Seraph. A tactician. One people called for in times of need, of stress - When all else fails, he couldn't. 

He couldn't fail. And he wouldn't.

"Sam," his voice broke the silence with a strong and steady statement. "I know how to save your brother." Unfortunately, it wasn't met with the reaction he expected.

"No. No you can't."

"I'm an angel of the Lord."

"Yeah, but an angel of the Lord, meddling in the lives of some mere humans? Get this,  Cas  - the other angels won't take too kindly to it. And you've already got enough taboo to your name."   


Humanity was confusing. Sam, who would give anything to save his brother, was refusing care that was gifted upon him.

"I can't ask you to do that for us." Sam stayed quiet.

"I'm not asking for your permission."

"And I'm not asking for your help!" Sam stood, his stoic façade breaking into a face of confusion and more tears. "I didn't ask for this life, I didn't ask for this hunt, I didn't ask to be  the goddamn vessel of Lucifer,  and I didn't ask to be stuck here with a winged thesaurus to tell me all the things I've done wrong!" 

Castiel leant back from the outburst, more confused than ever. He suspected the anger and inner turmoil, but didn't realize it's affect on Sam to have warped his perspective so. The quick burst of energy left Sam even more depleted, something Castiel could recognize as a depression and acceptance in grief.

Acceptance. Sometimes, humanity could be  dense. 

"I know how to save your brother, Sam." Castiel repeated, firmer.

"Don't. Your grace is already marking him Cas. Anymore, and it won't be subtext on whose side you're on. I- I don't want to be used against you. Either of us. In life or death."

"Give me another option, then. Tell me what else." He hated this  acceptance  of Sam's. He wouldn't let Dean just rot here. He couldn't. He needed him.

"I told you - I. Don't. Know." Sam's frustration was building. Castiel let it diffuse, before speaking again.

"It shouldn't have happened. It wasn't your fault. An accident like this..."

"Yeah well, kinda in the job description. At least he went out as a hunter."

Past tense. Acceptance. No.

"Sam."

"Oh c'mon, like we wouldn't have all died and burned with the apocalypse anyway. At least he got out easy."

" Sam!"  Castiel wouldn't say he snapped, as in the human view of a snapped sanity, but more of a  snap into action.  "The apocalypse is not yet to come. Dean is not yet dead, nor will he be anytime soon. You need to accept  that,  and deal with it." He sat back down, unaware he had stood up in his fury. "We can still avert Lucifer rising, and we can still save him, if you stop sulking like a child. You have been through worse. You have yet to go through worse. So take your depressing humanity and... and..," he thought for an appropriate statement, before settling on a phrase Dean would have used to motivate his brother. "and  stick It.  I know how to save your brother, Sam."

Sam looked hesitant, but not for his sake. "Are you sure this is how you want to go through with it?" 

The strange beeping of a monitor nearby filled the silence that followed.

"We've got no time, and no choice either." A steady reply.

"That's not an answer."

"I swear, everything is going to be okay."

"You're positive? No lies?"

"You're not the one I've been lying too." With that, Castiel looked at Dean for the first time -  really looked at Dean -  since he walked into the room.

Sam sighed, and stood. "I'll go keep watch. Make sure no one interrupts you." He passed by Castiel, but stopped with his hand on the angel's shoulder. "Cas... thank you. For saving my brother. It's such a déjà vu right now, and boy, am I tired, but - huh. No rest for the wicked, right? But thank you. For saving him.... Both times."

And he was gone.

His shoulder felt empty and cold, but nothing compared to the rest of him. The usual warm thrumming of his grace through his vessel was frozen in time, and it was a sickening feeling.

It worsened when he looked at Dean. Dean, silent still Dean. There wasn't any life shown in the face, and the bright beautiful soul had dimmed and flickered. The monitors kept a monotonous ambience, measuring each fake breath the body made and ready to catch any action or brain signals sent.

Humanity was fragile.

Castiel remembered a lot of things.  He remembered the Tower of Babel. He remembered Cain and Abel. He remembered late nights in a motel room, with potent take-out and splurging on a pay per view. He remembered long drives and loud songs, contrary to the timeless and useful effect of flying. He remembered the fights and the bar scenes and the hours on the side of the road to fix the impala. He remembered humanity, and realized.

He wasn't in love with humanity, he was in love with a human.

He loved Dean.

Why, of course he did. It just made sense. There was more than a simple  profound  to their bond, and Castiel could see it now. Castiel  has been privy to those 'chick-flik' moments Dean never showed, has seen Dean at the best and worst of times, and has supported Dean through good and bad. He's seen much more than the glow of his soul - 

The soul that barely is lit right now, pulsating with each beat of the previously mentioned monitors.

He rose Dean while at his weakest, down in Purgatory. He's seen Dean grow again, renew his strength, and prove to have more than before. But he's fallen low again. Humanity at it's weakest, knocking on the doors of death. And Castiel will raise him again.

"It's strange, Dean." His voice was loud in the silent room. "I've always watched humanity. It was my divine role. I never thought I'd partake in it. But I know now, it was bound to happen when watching you Winchesters. I've learned a lot watching you. I've been there through the struggles and triumphs, and it was only a matter of time till I intervened.

"And when I did, I learned even more. As did you. When I first made communication, you were alone, and scared - your soul screamed, and I listened. Then, that night in the barn, you weren't alone. But you were more frightened than ever. You knew nothing about what you were up against, but you fought. You were weak, but prepared and fought yet failed, and honestly? I'm glad you were weak. 

"And now I see that I'm weak. For... You're my weak spot. You are. And I'm yours. It’s a divine balance, and that means - As you grow in strength, well, I suppose so does my weakness. But I'm okay with that, If it means you get to rise, I'd fall from the heavens, any day. I gripped you tight, and now I'm never letting go."    


Maybe it was the uncontrollable shake in his hands, or that he didn't want to remove his hand from Dean's, but Castiel leaned up and placed a kiss on Dean's forehead, feeling grace and power flow from two lips instead of two fingers. It left with a light blue glow, and Castiel pulled back to watch the effects-

To watch it fade.

And to watch the once-supernova-bright soul dim even more.

Panic struck. His hand tightened, and his heart raced, as he failed. Time seemed to stretch, air seemed to fall, and he seemingly  failed  failed  failed.

The soul flickered with the blue of grace, till slowly -  oh so slowly -  growing in intensity and color. The hand twitched inside his hold, and Dean's eyes flittered open.

"Sm? Cas? Ugh - ow, my head," He reached up with his free hand, gently prodding the stitches on his hairline. "God, what happened?"

At that time, Sam entered back In, making Castiel curious to if he listened the entire time.

"I wish the impala's goddamn tires get slashed if you  dare   try to put us through that again." Sam, seemed to be filled once more with energy, gave Dean an awkward one armed hug as he still laid down. Castiel was also curious to if either of the brothers noticed or cared about his hands still wrapped around Dean's left.

"And I wish you'd shut your pie hole, but we don't always get what we want." Dean cringed, obviously still suffering a headache.

"Charming as ever, Dean." Sam sassed back, as Castiel reached up with two fingers to fix Dean's pain once more. "I see the trauma didn't affect your sarcasm."

"Trauma? Damn. What did you guys do?"

"I believe you mean, 'what did you do?'. It was your fault after all." Castiel answered.  Dean still seemed confused. "It was the salt-and-burn of Arthur G.  Carmahan , as you recall?" He nodded.

"Well, he didn't seem to siked we were disturbing his so-called peace," Sam continued, "But at least he took the bait of using you as a distraction."

"You were flung into a gravestone from the 17th century, which resulted in head trauma and a comatose state." Castiel finished.

Dean looked around the room, the situation seemingly settled into his mind. "Sam, do you have any friggin idea of how hard it is to fake insurance now a days?"

"Dean," Sam defended himself.

"Shit. These things aren't cheap-"

"Dean, you were in a coma. They didn't know when - hell,  if  you were going to wake up. We didn't have another choice." Sam looked to Castiel in a silent thank you and confirmation. Dean's eyes unfortunately followed.

"...Cas?" His voice was awkwardly high, so very unlike Dean.

Cas looked down. It seemed to be enough of answer.

"Dammit Cas, doesn’t that shit leave a mark or residue or whatever? You know others will be able to see that!"

"I'd rather them see that you are protected, than dead." He replied.

"Yeah well maybe I'm supposed to be that way."

"Dean-"

"We live in a world, where we defy death - you don't think the universe wants some friggin revenge?"

"You're just bringing down the room." Sam executed a perfect example of a 'bitchface'.

"yeah well, it's a gift. Look, I'm not saying I'm not grateful," Dean continued, "Which I am," Dean squeezed his hand, "But just cause I gotta die doesn't mean you have to, too. Okay?"

Wait. 

 

Dean just squeezed his hand.

Castiel felt elated at the little recognition, and /acceptance/ of his contact, quite so, that he had tuned out the brotherly spat as the Winchesters worked it out in their own way.

"Cas?" Dean's voice brought another squeeze of the hand, and Castiel's attention. "You got that?"

"No?"

"I appreciate it, but this is gonna have some long term effects we gotta deal with here. People - angels and demons- they're gonna see what you did. And we gotta be ready. They're gonna try to use this against us. They know how far we'll go. Either we go in smart, or we don't go in at all."

"And how far is that?" Castiel found the words slipping out, his eyes fixed on Dean.

The stare was returned, and surprisingly -and gratefully- lovingly softened. "To hell and back again."

 

**Author's Note:**

> I highly suggest checking out their blog for more!
> 
> spnhiatuscreations.tumblr
> 
> or mine too, cause well, self-promo here
> 
> victorianwatson.tumblr


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